


The 7 Times Sirius Black Cried

by Omegarose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, German translation available, Hungarian translation available, M/M, Marauders era, canon character death, i wrote this years ago be nice, mentioned child abuse, repost from wattpad, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omegarose/pseuds/Omegarose
Summary: At a young age, Sirius Black learned to control his emotions. He would not cry, or show anger to his mother or father, and it would be less likely that he’d be punished. He became more and more adept at this skill, proud to say he hadn’t cried in a place anyone had any chance of hearing him by the time he turned eleven.Then he went to Hogwarts.





	The 7 Times Sirius Black Cried

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely HisOwnHoney and Vanda_Black have translated this work from the (slightly unedited) Wattpad version that I originally posted.
> 
> [This is the German translation here by @HisOwnHoney](https://www.wattpad.com/781601629-the-7-times-sirius-black-cried-vorwort)
> 
> [This is the Hungarian translation here by @Vanda_Black](https://www.wattpad.com/894356756-the-7-times-srius-black-cried-ford%C3%ADt%C3%A1s-els%C5%91)

**THE FIRST TIME** Sirius Black cried was the first night at Hogwarts, after he thought everyone else had gone to bed.

He was terrified of what howlers and letters would come from his mother because he was sorted into Gryffindor rather than Slytherin, and he shuddered to imagine holidays. Walburga Black was not someone to be messed with, even if it was out of Sirius’ control. Even if he  _ did _ want to get into Gryffindor--and he had with all of his being--he still couldn’t control the placement of the sorting.

James Potter woke to the small, whimpering cries, and sat up, pulling back the curtains of his four poster. He saw Remus Lupin sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, and went to sit next to him.

“It’s Sirius,” Remus whispered, so quiet James was more reading his lips than anything. The clarification was rather unnecessary, given how Peter Pettigrew’s soft snores were still coming from his bed.

After a long moment of silence James asked hesitantly, “Should we do anything?”

Remus shook his head. “He seems too proud to accept comfort. Unless he says something tomorrow…I wouldn’t mention it.”

**THE SECOND TIME** Sirius Black cried was at the end of the first week of his second year, muffling his sobs in his pillow only minutes after the other three boys “fell asleep”.

He had, of course, been let down when his brother Regulus had been sorted into Slytherin at the start-of-term banquet, but nothing compared to the shock of his own brother calling him a blood traitor.

It wasn’t like he cared that he was “betraying” his family--anything but that, he was proud that he was distancing himself from them--but having his  _ little brother _ call him a horrible name was as painful as if Walburga thrown one of the heavy fire-pokers at him. The very same little brother that had looked up to him for years, until their mother began to praise him and scream at Sirius.

James and Remus sat on the rug in the center of the common room, picking at the loose threads, not saying anything. They had been there when Regulus had spat at his brother, after Sirius had simply greeted him in passing. They did not know what to say to him, beyond what they already had.

**THE THIRD TIME** Sirius Black cried was during the first night of his fourth year, hours after the boys had blown out the lantern and fallen silent.

He was crying because of his friends and the worry they showed over his many scrapes and bruises he had received from Walburga that past summer. She hadn’t remembered to remove the evidence from the skin that would remain hidden under his clothes, and of course his friends noticed the moment he changed into his pajamas.

He was hit with the realization that he actually had people that cared about him; James roaring that he’d adopt Sirius himself, Remus wondering if anything could legally be done against Walburga, and Peter getting so worked up  _ he’d _ cried.

This time, Peter was awake with James and Remus, and sat with the other two boys in the center of the dorm. 

“Maybe this time,” James started in a whisper. “We should do something?”

“No,” Remus said. “Even though…he wouldn’t want us to see him like that.”

James dug his fingernails into his palm, frustrated that he couldn’t do anything to help his best friend.

**THE FOURTH TIME** Sirius Black cried was the night his mother kicked him out.

He had returned home from Hogwarts a week before, and each day the screaming matches got worse and worse. On the seventh day he started to pack, all while screaming with his mother through his door. He placed permanent sticking charms on the few hangings on his wall that he hadn’t already, and threw the door open.

“Where do you think  _ you’re _ going?” Walburga demanded.

“Away,” Sirius spat, steadfastly marching for the stairs. Regulus’ eyes appeared in his doorway before he quickly shut his bedroom door.

“You have nowhere to go!” Walburga shrieked. “I’ll be sure none of your relatives even  _ look _ at you again, and none of your  _ friends _ would take you in, you’re too much of a burden!”

Sirius clattered loudly down the stairs, much to the displeasure of the portraits and his mother.

“Don’t you disrespect my house, boy!” Walburga screeched, aiming a heavy blow at the back of his head, which he ducked with practiced grace.

“My friends will take me in! The blood traitor, the half squib boy, the half blood, the mudblood--they’ll take me in and they’ll be grateful I got out of your godforsaken life!” he bellowed throwing her own words back at her with viciousness.

“Get out! Get out you filthy blood traitor!” she cried, throwing a heavy silver candlestick at him. “Get out, get out!”

He spun on his heel and did as she asked, slamming the door behind him as he stepped out into the rainy night.

Hours later, wandering lost around muggle London, he found his way to the Leaky Cauldron. He was tempted to stop, to warm himself with a glass or two of firewhiskey, but he managed to find the willpower to head in the direction of the Potter’s house.

He hopped onto a muggle bus, grateful for the few bills he had crumpled in his jacket pocket from the last time he visited James, during the winter holidays. It was three in the morning by the time he finally pulled his trunk up the Potter’s walk.

He hesitated to knock on the door. He knew James was probably awake--he became all but nocturnal during the summer--but he didn’t want to wake Fleamont or Euphemia. He was also having second doubts about the whole thing, but he had nowhere else to go, at least for the night. 

He knocked hesitantly on the door, praying that James could hear him.

Instead, as the door creaked open, he saw the wrinkled and kind old face of Mrs. Potter.

“I-” Sirius started, faltering.

She saw his bag and her face softened into sympathy. She opened her arms, saying, “Come on in, Sirius. Stay as long as you need.”

He stepped into her offered hug, wrapping his arms around her neck. He was taller than her by a good few inches, but somehow she managed to make it feel like she was holding him.

He broke down into tears, sobs wracking his body. He had never known an embrace like this one, the hugs he’d had before were brief; between friends, an occasional one from Euphemia when she either greeted them at King’s Cross or he was leaving her house, a quick one from some of his nicer relatives. This was a mother's embrace, and he had missed out on this for his entire life, the one his mother had thrown him into the world without.

“It’s okay,” Euphemia said softly, rubbing circles into his back, holding him as he broke down. “It’s okay.”

**THE FIFTH TIME** Sirius Black cried was in the middle of his second term as a sixth year, in a detention with Minerva McGonagall.

James nudged Sirius while she had her back turned, lifting up the corner of his parchment so Sirius could see the doodle of a hippogriff at the bottom. Sirius looked back down at his parchment with somber expression, not making any sort of effort to grin or make fun of his friend’s work.

James scrunched his eyebrows together in worry.

Sirius saw the look and shrugged, muttering, “I just don’t feel like being in detention today, Prongs.”

“WHAT!” James yelped.

Professor McGonagall turned, face stern. “Mr Potter!” she chastised, but it fell onto deaf ears.

James was feeling Sirius’ forehead. “Are you feeling alright? Do you have a headache? How long have these feelings been going on?”

Sirius tried to swat James off but James danced around his onslaught.

His face twisted into anger. “Listen, you thick headed idiot! I don’t-” his voice broke, and James immediately froze. “I’m not-” he tried again, only to have a tear streak down his face.

He reached up to his cheek, felt the wetness. With a look of utmost shame he hid his face on his folded arms on the table.

“Sirius, mate,” James started, voice low, reaching for his friend’s shoulder, pausing only inches away when it heaved with a poorly concealed sob. “What’s wrong?”

He mumbled something into his arm.

“Again, please?” James said, in that same quiet and understanding tone.

Sirius took a large, shuddering breath and said, quite loudly, though still muffled by his arms, “I snogged Moony.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened infinitesimally, mouthing  _ oh _ to herself.

James looked much more taken aback, his mouth hanging open and his eyes practically bugging out of his skull.

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said softly, putting a hand on the green eyed teens shoulder. “Take Mr. Black back to your dorms. I’m assuming you know a way so that you won’t run into anyone?”

He shook himself out of his stupor. “Er, yes, Professor. I’ll, erm…”

The professor smiled slightly and walked briskly to the front of the room, where she bent over her desk and fixed her stacks of parchment, giving no attention to the sixth year boys.

James cleared his throat, and began cajoling Sirius to come with him to the Gryffindor common room. He finally did, wiping his eyes furiously before standing there, rather limply. It was up to James to steer him in back corridors and through a secret passageway that led directly above the Fat Lady’s portrait, and after checking to see that no one was in the corridor, hurry him through the portrait hole and the fairly empty common room.

No one paid much mind to the boys, most outside at the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff Quidditch match or studying dutifully in the corners of the room. Remus looked up from where he was quizzing Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon for Transfiguration when he saw James ushering a blotchy faced Sirius to the stairs. He hurriedly excused himself and rushed across the common room and helped James, finding that he didn’t need to say anything to immediately help his friend.

They got up to the dorm without meeting anyone, and the two boys got Sirius to sit on the rug in the center of the room that so many confessions had been whispered over, so many sleepless nights spent on their backs staring at the patchwork of muggle glow-in-the-dark-stars James’ parents had sent their first year.

They sat across from him, and waited a few moments for him to speak.

“Mate…I’m not gonna hate you for this. And neither is Wormtail, and Moony hating you for this would just be hypocritical-”

Remus nodded, knowing what Sirius was upset over from James’ brief statement.

“It’s not-” he broke off, sighing and scrubbing his face. “It’s not you guys I’m worried about. All my life…all my life people have looked down on me because of my family, or because I don’t fit the mold of a perfect pureblood. So many people already hate me for things I can’t control…and now…”

“Shit, Padfoot,” James said finally, overwhelmed with the heaviness of Sirius’ words.

Remus, however, looked a little angry. “You’ve been holding onto that for  _ two weeks _ !”

Sirius blinked at him in shock.

“I mean, I get it. I know what it’s like. You think I don’t get sneers? My-my aunt pulls her  _ children _ away when she sees me. I understand, Padfoot.” Remus took Sirius’ hand. “Even the muggles have a reason too, now. It’s by no means easy.”

“But me and Peter and Lily and Marlene will always be here for you both,” James added, smiling.

Sirius finally cracked a smile, dropping Remus’ hand so he could scrub at his eyes. “Thanks. Sorry if I got in the way of anything, or-”

“Anytime, Padfoot,” James said, and Remus verified it with an earnest nod.

**THE SIXTH TIME** Sirius Black cried was in Azkaban, after almost eleven years of remaining steadily impassive.

It was the day the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, visited; bowler hat and Daily Prophet tucked under his arm. He had a very normal conversation with him, though he was secretly craving the sane human contact. He even got him to give up the Daily Prophet to him.

As Fudge left, looking quite shaken from the unsettling conversation in combination with the dementors, Sirius leaned against the wall on his cot and started to read, cover to front. He knew he’d treasure this paper, giving him something to  _ do _ in his never ending free time.

An article on one of the inner pages caught his eye; Hogwarts New Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor: Remus Lupin.

Sirius examined the article, as short as it was, and saw no mention to his lycanthropy or to Harry Potter.

“No…” Sirius muttered, becoming more and more panicked. The Daily Prophet, unless it had drastically changed since he had been thrown into Azkaban, would mention the Boy Who Lived. If Harry was under the care of Remus, it would be in the article.

For the first time in nearly eleven years he allowed himself to think of Harry and what may have happened to him. He had never thought that anything other than Harry going to Remus would happen, but now that he actually sat down and gave it a second look he realized that Remus would never get custody of a child. He was a werewolf, it was most likely only due to Dumbledore that he was teaching this coming year.

“Oh Merlin,” Sirius moaned. “Harry.” James and Lily’s son--his and Peter’s ((as much as he loathe to admit it, after all he knew now)) and Remus’ son, too--had grown up in a house of someone who might not even  _ know _ his parents.

He shook his head and continued to read to distract himself from the pain in his chest. An article about the winners of a contest at the Ministry, the Weasleys. He remembered them from the Order. It turned out they had a daughter after their six sons. He smiled slightly as he skimmed the article, before his eyes caught on the name Harry Potter.

His eyes widened as he reread the sentence that the name was in: 

Their youngest son, Ronald, is in the same year as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, who will be joining their family later this summer in favour of his muggle aunt and uncle.

Sirius’ vision blurred. He felt like screaming. His godson had been put in the care of his aunt and uncle. Lily’s sister Petunia and her horrible husband Vernon Dursley.

“No no no no no,” Sirius muttered. Despite himself, sobs welled up his throat and tears forced themselves out of his eyes. Harry would be miserable with the Dursleys, he just knew it. From the few times he had met Petunia and the brief introduction to Vernon he knew Harry would be treated terribly.

The dementors pulsed with excitement outside of his cell, reaching their bony fingers through the bars. Sirius tried to force his tears to stop--to prevent the dementors from finally breaking him. He thought long and hard of Peter, and his betrayal. Of his own innocence!

In a last ditch effort, he looked back at the newspaper. The picture of the Weasley’s, all nine of them smiling and waving at the camera in the middle of the desert. He caught sight of a rat sitting on Ron’s shoulder, one that was suspiciously missing one of its front toes…

**THE SEVENTH TIME** Sirius Black cried was a few short weeks of his escape from Azkaban. He had been wandering through muggle London for four days, searching to no prevail for any sign of Harry, when, in Surrey, he saw a young, dark haired boy with glasses storming outside his house.

Sirius was in his animagus form to avoid muggle detection--as he had heard his name from an open window earlier that day--and he sulked back into the bush he was in.

As the boy drew closer, Sirius thought for a moment it was James, then his eyes caught in the light and Sirius realized they were as green as Lily’s.

He had finally stumbled across his godson, and completely on accident.

Harry was glowering at the bushes, and for a wonderful and terrible moment, Sirius and his eyes met.

“I know what day it is,” a fat boy said, as he came plodding from the house.

“Congratulations on finally learning the days of the week,” Harry said, tearing his eyes away long enough for Sirius to sneak out of the garden through the loose board in the fence.

His heart was racing as he pelted through the streets, and not due to his running. He reached the woods around a playground and shifted from his animagus form. He stumbled, not used to two legs, and fell on his hands and knees.

He started to cry, and at first he didn’t know why.

“Fuck,” he muttered when he realized what it was. For a split second he thought Harry was James, and he was in the past when everything was good and they were at Hogwarts.

That would never happen again. If he had any say about it Peter would be dead in a few months, and Remus thought he betrayed James and Lily, and  _ they _ were dead. He was…alone. 

He had never properly cried for James, and Lily, and Peter, he realized as he knelt in the dirt. Never cried for his best friend, or the girl who accepted his messy apologies from the years before, or the loyal friend who had been replaced but something darker right under everyone’s noses. 

Some part of Sirius had never gotten past that moment of realization that fateful Halloween night, thirteen years ago. Some part of Sirius still expected his friends to be alive. Some part of him wasn’t ever going to get past that hurt.


End file.
